Filthy Trade
by Epsymoon
Summary: "Tim doesn't move nor open his eyes immediatly. He doesn't exactly want to give his captors a clue of his awakening if they are still in here." Tim put himself in a critical situation, and it's up to his brothers to save the day. / Rated M for adult themes, language and violence, but nothing really graphic.
1. Chapter 1

**Filthy Trade**

He's cold.

He's laid down face agaisnt the dirt when he wakes up from the beating he's taken earlier. His wirsts are tightly bound together and would certainly begin to hurt if he weren't so numb from the cold. No wonder, given that his captors judged necessary to wake him with a bucket of freezing water a couple hours ago to question him. The damp air of the docks isn't very helpful for a quick dry.

Tim doesn't move nor open his eyes immediatly, resisting the urge to curl up on himself in an attempt to warm up. He doesn't exactly want to give his captors a clue of his awakening if they are still here. Instead, he stretches his hearing.

He can hear the voices of the men who happily beat the crap out of him earlier for his attempted – and failed – escape. Their casual conversation is too muffled for them to be inside.

When Tim can't hear another breathing nearby, he assumes that it's safe to open his eyes. He leans against the wall behind him, bringing his knees closer and blowing on his hands to warm them a little. Not very effective.

Apparently they haven't moved him, because he's still in that old container among various marchandise boxes. There's no opening to the external world, but it must be the middle night given the drop of temperature, that wasn't exactly high to begin with. The thought only makes him shiver harder.

Tim leans the back of his pounding head against the wall. He should have been more careful.

He was investigating on the sudden growing activity of a small gang in expansion, that is behind a dozen of kidnapping, all of children or teenagers. The members call themselves the Skulled.

After a few research, it turned out that the gang had drawn the Red Hood's attention too, so Tim and Jason decided to team up on this case. Or, more precisely, Tim conviced a recalcitrant Jason that it would be more effective to work together. They were supposed to meet around noon to exchange information, in a fast-food not too far from Red Hood's territory, where Jason happens to drag Tim from time to time. It seems that their brotherly bonding moments usually consist at working on the best way to kick some criminal's ass while Jason forces some junk-food down the younger man's throat, given that _you could really use some more pounds, Baby-bird._

Perhaps that's for these moments that Tim insists to work with Jason every now and then. And perhaps that's why Jason usually tends to agree. Most of the time anyway.

However, while Tim was waiting for his brother – who was late as always –, he caught a suspicious conversation between a group of men round the corner of the street. Observing them, he recognized some of the faces as the ones he already saw on his computer screen during his research.

And Tim knew this was a stupid idea. He _knew_. Tim Drake can't defend himself like Red Robin can in case things go awry. But he couldn't pass the opportunity of following the four men after they had talked about '_the next target_' and '_meeting the boss for the orders_'.

If Tim found out the faces and names of several of the thugs and was even able to get some of them arrested, the brain of the Skulled seems untouchable. It seems like even his men don't know their boss's name. Tim wasn't so naïve to think that it would be so simple to be leaded to their chief, but he hoped to learn more about him and this 'next target'. There was no way in hell he would let another kid between their claws. If those douchebags keeped being so discreet, Tim had a chance to collect some more precious information and to prevent another child to become a victim.

So he followed them, keeping just enough distance not to be remarked. And he was so absorbed – '_gotta kill that cop, too curious for his own good_'' – that he didn't notice the woman that was oncoming before she bumped into him and she gasped a "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry!", loud enough to draw the men's attention and for them to turn their heads in his direction, despite the reasonable distance that separated him from them.

Inhaling sharply through the nose, Tim muttered a "It's nothing" before turning on his heels and trying to go as far away from his targets as he could before they realize that he was following them.

He should have noticed that the girl's apology was too loud and exagerated to be natural. Instead, he was caught completely off guard when the barrel of a gun went smashing him in the head the second he turned his back to the woman. Not hard enough to really get him unconsious, but he was disoriented enough to be send on the ground.

He didn't even saw that she was hiding a gun on her. What he saw as soon as he lifted his eyes, though, was the men that he was following now circling him, all twice his size, one of them with a hand on the woman's shoulder. _Samuel Holm_, he remembered immediatly his name. He gritted his teeth. Holm's file said something about a sister. Tim hadn't paid attention then. He should have checked if she had something to reproach herself too.

He remembers playing the fool briefly before being silenced by a hard kick in the stomach, then another to his head that got him unconsious. And then he had woken up there at the oh-so-pleasant feeling of cold water being thrown at him. After what he was able to knock out the two guys that had woken him, catching them by surprise, and just ran for it. But he hadn't made more that ten meters out of the room, and he was surrounded by a bunch of other men. He tried to defend himself, but he was still dizzy for the kick in the head he took earlier. There were just too many of them, and the fact that they were all twice his size and weight didn't help.

All in all, his little escapade only earned him a rough beating and some ropes around his wrists. And then here he is, shivering and beaten and angry against himself for his stupid mistake.

Tim had been very cautious not to be remarked by the men during his filature, and had been attentive at any potential appearance of another member of the Skulled he had demasqued, but he let _her_ catch him like a novice just because the idea that she might work with her brother hadn't crossed his mind. He's not going to pardon himself any time soon.

They had, of course, deprived him of his phone. For the numerous time, Tim tries to get rid of the ropes biting into his flesh, but no avail. His fingers are too numb to tempt any of the various techniques he knows to free himself of this kind of bound.

The pounding in his head keeps increasing. He's hungry, too. He assumes that it's a couple hours before midnight, so it has to be approximately ten hours since he's been caught. He definitely should have taken a break in his work this morning to have breakfast.

Tim concentrates on the cold, on his headache and hunger and battered body, pretending he's not trying to forget that the Skulled's speciality is human traffic.

* * *

In an access of rage and frustration, Red Hood tosses the guy he was holding by the shirt against the wall of the ally. Hard. His companion is trembling in a corner nearby, a bullet hole already in his leg. Red Hood isn't exactly known in Gotham for his idle threats.

But even if their breathing are erratic and their eyes dart from side to side, none of the both scumbags has said a word about where his stupid Replacement might be at the moment.

"Playtime's over, piece of shit," Red snarls. "Tell me where he is, _now_."

"I-I told you!" His voice is high-pitched as he stammers. "I don't know where they–" He's interrupted by a kick to the jaw.

"Wrong answer." Jason's voice is not as grim as he'd want it to be. Of course, the current state of the whimpering shitbag at his feet doesn't allow him to notice.

But the truth is, there's been a choking lump in Jason's throat for hours now. It keeps getting harder and harder to breathe.

After the exasperation of constating that the Pretender was actualy even more late that him, he realized how out of character it was. And when Tim didn't answer his phone or his com link, nor was at his apartement after nearly an hour of absence, Jason put on his helmet and began searching members of the Skulled in order to beat information out of them. It took him several hours to find and corner those two.

But one of the only things he was able to learn so far, it's that they took a boy near the place where Jason and Tim were supposed to meet, confirming what he thought. Baby-bird found a way to get himself kidnapped by a fucking human trafficking gang on which he was apparently investigating for weeks before they even decided to team up. If what Red Hood's current victims admitted is true, then they were among the five people that took Tim, but they separated immediatly after so that they didn't know where the kid was at the moment.

The man still doesn't answer, so Red takes his gun and shoots in the direction of the other guy, just a couple inches above his shoulder. The guy can't supress a yelp, flinching hard.

"Your turn." His eyes are glued on the white lenses of the hemlet as Red Hood advences towards him in slow, heavy steps. He starts to whimper when the vigilante's feet are just an inch in front of his prone form, shrinking against the wall as if it could swallow him. And now that he began, he can't seem to stop babbling about how that kid was poking his nose into their business, and how they couldn't let him go because the boss would have killed them, and they couldn't know he was a friend of Hood's but he _swears_ he ain't got a clue where they've taken him and _please don't kill me_.

Red can feel the taste of blood in his mouth and it's only then that he realizes his teeth are tearing his lower lip apart. He's suddenly glad that the helmet only allows sight to impitoyable, inhuman white lenses.

He'd hoped gaining more pertinent information than that, but he knew that a few rough interrogations wouldn't be enough to pierce the secrets of their organization. He's been on this case for weeks, and Baby-bird was on it even before that. Those two cowards really don't know more than what they've already said. At least, he could confirm what he and the Pretender already knew.

Red Hood puts a bullet in the heads of the two thugs, silencing them. Scumbags selling kids to psychos for money shouldn't be allowed to live anyway. Messing with _his_ Replacement just took off their only chance to finish their days in jail.

Putting his gun back into his holster, Jason leaves the ally where he had cornered them, his destination very clear in his head. As he's climbing on his motorcyle, he begins to recapitulate what he and Tim know about the Skulled. He starts with a mental list of the members they've already identified. Okay, Baby-bird identified them. Jason never was that good with research work.

None of them are big names of the criminal world. Nearly all of them have a record for low handiwork in other gangs though. Or for murder concerning some of them.

Out of the thirteen kids that were kidnapped so far, Red Robin and Red Hood were able to find three, all under fifteen years old, two of them before they were sold. The Reds could send some of the responsibles to jail too. But all three kids were found at a different place – they even had to go on another _continent _ to get one of the children.

That's what makes the Skulled so hard to corner: their organization is basic, and the executors have very few direct contact with their boss. The chief designates one or two kids per month, and the thugs take them, then put them somewhere safe until – Jason swallows back a sudden urge to throw up – a buyer is found. They don't have an established safe-place or headquarters. The thugs manage with what they find, making the kids harder to localise. Apparently, even the two shitbags Jason just killed didn't know where their accomplices decided to take Tim.

The work of the low hierarchy members ends there. Then- Jason stops dead on his track. Swallows again. And forces himself to pursue his train of thought. He's not far away from his destination.

Then, it's the higher hierarchy members' turn to act. They take the kids, bring them to the buyer they found and get their dirty, filthy money, the place of the exchange varying a lot too.

It's seems like even the Skulled's clientele isn't precisely defined. Besides the three kids the Reds were able to return to their family before they were sold, they found a fourth too. Or rather her corpse. Lacking several organs.

Jason takes a deep breath. He has no way to know if those assholes destined Tim to some perverse creep or to an organ trafficker. Or to another cathegory of the black market.

But there's something the two despicable cowards told him. The names of the guys who took Tim. Samuel Holm and Gregory Hikes. Baby-bird had identified them a week or two ago, and tried to tend them to the police, but they were released for lack of proof. Stupid cops.

That being said, that didn't stop Tim to gather practical information on them. Like their addresses.

The two guys Jason interrogated said something about a certain Jessica Holm too, though he has never heard of her before. Tim's attentive eye must have missed her for some reason.

Jason has stopped his motorcycle, now facing a wretched building as his hard glare dives into the open window of an apartement at the second floor. Samuel and Gregory are probably with Tim at the moment.

Time too see if dear Jessica Holm not only shares her relative's acquaintances, but also his address.

* * *

Damian didn't immediatly understand Grayson's reaction when, in the middle of the afternoon, Todd let them know of Drake's dissapearance. That fool let himself be abducted. So what? He would free himself or be found in two hours top, and Damian would have an extra excuse – not that he's actually lacking of those – to remind him how much of a failure he is.

But it's the middle of the night now, and Drake still hasn't reappeared. Damian can feel the tension in the cave as it keeps thickening, watching the way Grayson's jaw is set hard instead of letting appear his caracteristic goofy smile. He hasn't even touched the sanwich Pennyworth brought him earlier, sitting in front of their giant computer for hours, since Todd sent him the files and information he and Drake has gathered on those Skulled – Damian huffed. What a ridiculous name.

Yes, Damian didn't immediatly understand why Grayson's face was deprived of all colour when Todd said the name of the gang responsible. Damian had never heard of those people before. Apparently, Grayson has.

So Damian is deprived of patrol and can only watch the way Grayson's shoulders are tense in front of the giant machine. The way his eyes, usually wrinkled with laughter, seem able to pierce the screen of Father's computer. Father who is in Japan for business related to Wayne Enterprises at the moment, and who will not make it back home before several hours.

The situation in which Drake put himself is more delicate that what Damian intially thought, then. It's not in Father's habits to insist on annuling a business trip and coming back ASAP for some futile reasons.

"Tt." Damian is somewhat irritated that Grayson doesn't even react. His scowl deepens, because normally, Grayson would have turned his head in his direction straight away and asked him what's up with the tutting, Little D.

That only reminds him that things _aren't_ _normal_ right now, and he gritts his teeth. Drake always finds a way to be the center of the attention. No, that's not true, Damian admitts. But it's always really unpleasant when Drake is the center of the attention. It usually means that something bad happened. To him.

That very thought causes a sudden lump to appear in Damian's throat, and he doesn't want to know why.

"Give me something to do," he snaps. And then, after a short reflexion, adds "I am bored." He absolutely does not need Grayson to think that he might be _concerned_ about Drake. Because he's not.

Grayson finally turns his head towards him. His eyes seem littler than usual when he responds, "I told you, Damian. I don't want you on this case." Damian's about to argue, to ask why, to demand what makes those stupid Skulled so horrible, but he snaps his mouth shut when Grayson adds, so quiet it's hard to hear, "I wouldn't even have wanted Timmy on this one." His voice is so strained, he doesn't sound like himself.

Damian understands it's one of _those cases_. The cases Grayson and Father don't want him to laid a finger on. They don't even want to talk to him about them. It usually infuriates Damian like nothing else. He's not some child one can dispose of when the monster under the bed is judged too ugly for him.

But for some reason, Damian can't bring himself to engage an argument like he usually would. Perhaps that has something to do with the way Grayson slowly sets his elbows on his lap and takes his head in his hands. "God, if I had known..."

Damian, taken aback, is unable to insist. But the need to do something, _anything_ becomes unbearable, and he realizes against himself how much he wants Drake back- but don't get him wrong. He wants to mock and insult him, and he wants Drake to retort with one of those lame answers of his, he wants Grayson to reprimand them for fighting again, and he wants Todd to observe them with his wicked grin from the corner of the room, placing a biting remark here and there. Pennyworth would raise a desapprouving eyebrow while Father would tell them off harshly, but it would have no effect because they would all know he's trying not to smirk at their antics.

Damian wants things to be _normal_ again. But right now Grayson is curled on himself, looking both twice his age and twice younger, and Father isn't here where they need them and-

"Dick," Gordon's voice through he computer interrupts his thoughts. Oracle's voice. Damian briefly wonders why she uses names. But it's true that Grayson's shrinked form has nothing to do with Nightwing, despite the suit he's wearing. "Jason has found something."

Grayson's head shoots up. Damian pays attention to what will soon be said.

"He interrogated a woman that was involved in Tim's abduction. She said he was taken to the docks. Red Hood is already on his way."

Grayson puts on his mask and grabs his escrima stick while asking Oracle for the exact localisation. Then furrows his brows when he sees that Damian is putting his Robin uniform.

"I told you I-"

"Do you want to find Drake or not?" Damian snaps harshly, glaring.

Grayson stiffles. "I don't want you near those guys if things go out of hand."

"They won't," Damian says curtly instead of yelling at Grayson because he still doesn't know what is the problem with this case and because he is perfectly able to handle himself, thank you very much.

Grayson doesn't answer, but he bites his lip before nodding reluctantly.

And then they're out.

* * *

His head is spinning. And he's been sneezing and coughing for at least twenty minutes now. He certainly has a cold, or the flu. And his brain don't want to shut up about how a superficial infection of the upper respiratory tracts that is normally easily exterminated by the lymphatic organs will, in his case, progress to a superinfection gaining his lungs because of his lack of spleen. And then pneumonia.

Tim shakes his head, aggraving his headache but effectively shuting his brain up. He has to remember, it will be at least several days before his cold degenerates too much. He will be found before that. Right?

Jason has to be looking for him now. And he must have alerted the others too. Bruce is on a business trip and will not get home before a week, but Dick and Barbara are in town. They'll find him.

But in the meantime, he has to think rationnaly. He'd vainly tried to elaborate some escape plans, but one of them had actually a chance to succeed.

He sneezes again, and realizes that thinking about his potential death by respiratory failure is less dread-filling that imagining what they'll decide to do with him.

And that's what makes it unbearable – the wait, the loneliness, the silence only rythmed by his wheezy breathing. He has plenty of time to picture various worst-case scenarios in detail. Tim has a pretty precise idea of what creeps buying other humans being for money are able to do to their victims.

_Stop, stop, stop! _He let his brain the upper-hand again. He tries to think of another vain escape plan to occupy his mind instead.

His eyelids, squeezed shut so far, open at the same time that the door as it reveals Holm and another guy. Gregory Hikes, Tim quickly remembers. He can feel the anxiety enveloping him. But he keeps his breathing as even as possible. Withstands Holm's glare as he approaches. Coughs again, dry, and that affects somewhat his proud attitude.

He hasn't really the time to catch his breath before Holm yanks him by the hair, hard, forcing him on his feet and in his partner's direction, who grabs him by the the arm. It's hard to walk without staggering.

"Time to move, pretty face", Hikes grumbles.

Tim's stomach sinks. Moving is bad in every way possible. That means that he will be harder to find, and that means something else that he doesn't want to think about. But Holm's grin leaves no place to hesitation.

"Your photos got several people interested, brat." _Photos_? Tim can feel the bile rising up his throat. They must have taken them while he was unconsious.

He's dragged outside. The moon is high in the sky, and the air is chilling. Why is he the only one shivering? Tim is leaded towards an old van without windows at the back, Hikes' grip iron on his arm. There are two other guys in the front whose faces he never saw before.

That kind of transition is his best chance of escape and he knows it. But his legs are weak and numb under him, and breathing was already hard for his abused ribs since his beating, but for some reason it's worse now. There's no way he can put up a fight against those two montains at the moment.

His eyes dart from side to side, his brain working at full speed as he is trying to think of something, _anything_ that could help him escape from this fucked-up situation. But there's nothing, they're alone in the docks, and he's hungry and cold and dizzy, and he doesn't know where they are taking him, to _who_, and what that creep will do to him. And Jason's supposed to be looking for him now, and he must have told the others so _why can't he see them? _Have they given up on him? Did they stop looking? Maybe another more important case came up and they had to take care of it before him? It's like his heart stopped in his chest. He's too concentrated on trying to remember how to _breathe_ to notice how irationnal he's being, the sensible part of him quickly overwhelmed by the _fear_ that's choking him right now.

He's tossed into the van and they close the doors behind him. He's deprived of light once again.

And the van starts to move.

* * *

_That's it for now ^_^_

_I would love to see your impressions. Please let me know what is necessary to correct or to improve :)_

_Thanks for reading!_


	2. Chapter 2

_First of all, I'd like to thank all of those that take the time to read this, and especially reviewers that left comments for the last chapter. I am so glad that you liked the first part and that I didn't got the characters OOC. I hope that you'll enjoy this part too._

_I'm sorry for any grammatical/spelling mistakes though I did my best to limit them - apparently, there are still some that last in the previous chapter too. As English isn't my mother tongue, I fail to see them all by myself, so do not hesitate to point them out so I can correct them :)_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Jason shouldn't have let the Baby-bird wander alone while they were chasing a gang like this one. Or he should have met him in his apartement. Or somewhere nearer the safer parts of the city. Or he should have arrived in time at their rendezvous for once in his damn life.

Jason shakes these thoughts away. There will be plenty of time for the blame-game when he finds Tim. For now, all the self-loathing in the world won't change the fact that Jason is _too late_ again because Tim _isn't in the damn container_. And as the dread that fills him and that he will totally deny feeling later becomes stifling, Jason can't help wondering what it must be for Baby-bird.

He turns sharply towards Jessica Holm, making her flinch. He brought her with him, assuring her a bullet between the eyes if she'd dared to indicate him the wrong direction.

She takes a step back, but doesn't lower her gaze. She has more guts that the guys from earlier. It hits Jason that he should have realized she was mocking him when she immediatly admitted where Tim had been taken.

"I didn't lie," she points out. She's provoking him despite her slightly trembling voice.

"But you knew that they would already have left when we get there," he snarls.

"Well," and the bitch actually _smirks_. "You didn't ask that..."

He slaps her in the face with the back of his hand, hard. She only grins wider.

"You're a high hierarchy member." Of course she is. Nearly no gang hires women for low handiwork. He's so stupid for not thinking about it sooner. He's just wasted precious time, and now Tim is paying the price for it. "You're among the ones who know the boss."

She takes a playful, teasing tone, "Maybe yes, maybe no-" and Jason loses it. He's got his hands around her neck, pinning her against the wall.

Her feet are kicking as she staggers out, "Y'won't... kill me..."

She's right. He needs her and she knows it. But damn how it feels good. So good that it frightens Jason and freezes his guts. He's not supposed to enjoy this. He's not supposed to enjoy killing.

He releases her, backing away as if her neck had burned his skin through his gloves. He watches her falling on her knees and coughing until she catches her breath back. At least she stopped grinning. And her eyes are frightened when she looks up to him. She finally understands that he's serious, and that's good, because she won't risk to betray her boss if there's not someone in front of her whose wrath frighten her even more. Jason realizes that she probably believes he's too unstable to keep her alive if she provokes him, even if he needs her.

He's not totally sure that she's wrong.

"The buyer's name is Thomas Hamilton." Wow. He didn't even have to ask. "I was only charged to find a client, but I don't know where the transaction will take place. I swear!" She quickly adds when he narrows his eyes at her.

Client. Transaction. She doesn't even hesitate before saying those words. Does she even realize she's talking about a human being? The more things progress, the more he's feeling sick and angry and murderous.

"Your boss," he pressures. The sucker will know for sure where they're taking Tim.

She grinds her teeth. Swallows. "He'll kill me if-"

"Me too, if you. don't. _answer_."

"You'll pretend you had the information from someone else?" Her eyes are suddenly pleading.

"Maybe. If you give me a fucking answer this second."

She swallows again. "Blake Sadler. But I don't know where he is now. He calls when he needs us, we don't have more contact than that. He always uses a different number."

"Give me your phone then." Her eyes widen. Her hand is pressed against the bruises on the porcelain skin of her neck. Blonde hair circling a round face. How a girl looking so much like a doll can be so corrupted? How can _anyone_ bo so corrupted? Getting _money_ in exchange of _children_ and then _laugh_ _about it?_

When she doesn't immediatly do what he says, he grabs his gun and points it on her nose. For now, her phone is the only link he can establish with Sadler, even if all he can do is wait for a call. It's not much, but it's good to take anyway.

"You'll tell him?" Her voice is thin as she reluctantly tends him her phone. "That you had the information fro-"

"No favor for monsters," he spats. And turns on his heels, before he can see her eyes fill with dread. Deciding that leaving her with her fear is a better punishement that killing her right away.

For the moment.

* * *

"Hood," Nightwing calls when they see Jason coming out of a container. There's something in him that breaks when he can't see Tim with him.

"Holm is inside, if you want to interrogate her," he points behind him with his thumb. "But I don't think she'll say anything more." Then the white lenses narrow, "You took the brat with you?" His voice is reproachful.

"No one _took_ me, you fool!" Damian retorts hotly. "I am here by my own will and I do not owe _you_, of all people, a justification."

"What have you learned?" Nightwing steps in before Jason can reply. He doesn't need a fight now of all times. Involve Dami in this is the last thing he wants, but he prefers to be with him rather than to encourage Robin to go out alone and to put himself in danger, which he would probably have done if Dick didn't take him with him.

Maybe Red understands that, because he doesn't insist, heading towards his bike instead. "Their boss is Blake Sadler. Ever heard of him?" Nightwing shakes his head. "Got the..." Jay's voice quivers. "The buyer's name too. Thomas Hamilton."

Nightwing can feel a shiver go up his spin. Uncounciously, he observes Damian's jaw stiffening out of the corner of his eyes. He has briefed him on their way, with as little detail as possible, his voice failing miserably to stay impassive. Damian has been particulary silent since.

"And Jessica Holm?" Nightwing asks.

Jason lets out a dry laugh. "I'll kill that bitch later. If Sadler doesn't do it before me."

They don't have time for the 'we don't kill' speech now, so Dick saves it for later.

A finger on his ear, Nightwing is about to ask Oracle to start gathering information on Sadler when her voice pipes up in their com link.

"Wait," she says, her voice commanding. "No need to waste time searching for Sadler."

A map appears on the screen of their bikes, with an address displayed as a destination.

"Please _trust me_, guys. I'll explain en route." There's something in her tone that doesn't leave place to doubt, so they move in the direction she has shown, driving at high speed through the city. "I wasn't able to find out the place of the exchange, but I got useful information about Thomas Hamilton."

Dick feels his eyes widen under his domino mask, because _already?_ Babs must have listened while Jason interrogated Jessica Holm, and she used the few spare minutes to start her research. She's awesome like that.

"We're listening."

* * *

He's still freezing and his breathing is still rythmed by his coughs and sneezes. Tim makes a huge effort to keep himself together. Constantly pushing his anxiety aside to allow himself to _think_.

His internal clock tells him that they've been driving for about fifteen minutes now. Meaning, given their speed, that they are in an area of aproximately four miles around the docks. It's not particulary helpful for now, but his training learned him to always gather as much information as possible for a potential future use. Plus, he can practically hear Batman's voice in his head telling him to _always know where you are_ in this kind of situation.

Tim remembers Holm's words despite the malaise that it causes him. 'Several people are interested', but if they decided to move him already, that probably means that they've chosen one. He reminds himself again that transitions are his best chances of escape. So he analyzes the situation the most objective way possible.

He won't be able to effectively defend himself physically in his state, unless he can take them by surprise. Plus, the men are surely armed. And it's an evidence that they are careful, or else the Skulled would already have been caught. They know what they are doing and won't take any risk. Which, perhaps, is not the case of the creep to who they're bringing him. That will be his best opportunity.

He'll have to wait for the two members of the Skulled escorting him to go away, and using the moment to attentively observe their faces for potential future use. He knows that those who take care of the exchanges are high hierarchy members; the harder to identify, and Tim won't pass by the opportunity.

It is highly probable that their buyer will have some thugs with him, but Tim is confident that they'll be less careful than the gang. So as soon as the Skulled leave the place, Tim will have to be particulary aware of his new escort's attitude. He'll play the docile, resignated victim, and the second they'll let go of him and look the other way, he'll just slip away as discreetly as possible and run for it.

Tim lets out a long sigh. It's by far one of his worst plans. Probably the most ridiculous. But it's all that he has. It's the only hope he can hold onto.

When the van stops suddenly, Tim can't repress a flinch, snapping his eyes open. He lets out a long, shaky breath. Giving in to panic now won't do him any good.

It seems that the doors open in slow-motion. Tim's eyes are fixed straight ahead. The doors reveal the two Skulled that were in the front. One of them at his mobile phone.

"Yeah, we'll be there in forty minutes top," he says as he approaches. Tim calculs quickly how far away from the docks they'll be. "... I told ya, consider it done," he adds before hanging up. "Mike, gimme a hand."

And _shit_, is that a seringue he's putting out of his pocket? Tim swallows, then waits for Mike to place himself behind him, grabbing him hard by the shoulders while Not-Mike leans towards his arm, approaching the seringue of his skin. The second he's close enough, Tim gives him a head-butt, full in the nose. Then collides the back of his head with Mike's teeth – not one of his most beautiful fights, but he has other priorities than assuring a nice combo right now.

The seringue rolls on the ground as Mike let go of him out of surprise, and they both grab their faces. Tim doesn't waste the only second that he has, getting on his feet and running out of the van.

"You little shit!" He can hear yelling behind him. He's staggering. The hits he's just given aggravated his headache and dizzyness greatly, and his bound hands don't allow him to use the walls of Gotham's allies for support. He feels like his legs are going to give out under his weight, but he can hear his captors cursing and running not so far, so he pushes harder, his breathing burning his throat and his lungs. He swalloms in the strees, trying to get rid of his pursuers. He can hear their voices begin to fade. He wants to laugh. He did it. He escaped. Just a few minutes longer, and he'd have put enough distance between the-

He's falling. He registers hitting the asphalt, hard, before he can feel his ankle twist because of a hole in the pavement. His whimper is caught in his throat. His heart feels like it's going to explose.

"There!" No. _No! _He tries to get up. Fails. Tries again, and then there are strong arms grabbing him hard and turning him, and there are stone-like fists diving into his face, and there's a rough hand that yanks him by the hair. He's struggling, he tries to scream, but there's a hand on his nose and mouth and he_ can't breathe_. His limbs feel so weak.

And he still can't see anyone.

He's tossed to the ground, hard, breathing heavily, and then grabbed again. They drag him towards the van. He's limping and they go way too fast, and it's only then that he realizes how much his ankle hurts.

He's inside the van again. One of the men gives a dirty look to the abondonned seringue on the ground.

"We should've sedated him sooner."

They blindfold him, untie his hands to re-tie them behind his back, and bind his ankles too – that _hurts_. There's a sting on his arm.

The guy backslaps him once more for good measure, and then he's left alone. He can't feel nor hear the van as it starts again. He just feels the lump that seems too big for his throat and his heart that pounds too hard for his chest. He feels the cold and the hunger and the pain.

Tim's last thought, before he falls in an artificial sleep, is that all his only chances of escape after the exchange were just annihilated.

* * *

"Thomas Hamilton was a surgeron," Babs explains them as they ride through the city, talking quickly and smoothly. "He worked in several different reputed hospitals before losing the right to exercice. He's currently domiciliated in a small town a few hundred miles away from Gotham. I hacked into flying and railings companies' systems, and found out that he came here three times, including today. The first two dates match with two of the disappearances of the Skulled's victims by a few days."

Jason curses loudly. "The fucker is a regular client."

"Yes." Barbara seems to hesitate for a second, "And he was here around the days of Soraya Ernando's disappearance." She lets the implications sink.

Nightwing swallows thickly. He can hear Jason taking a sharp breath through the nose in his com link.

"Who's Soraya Ernando?" Damian's asks, sharp as always, but confused at the same time. He's the only one that hasn't seen the files, after all.

"Red Robin and I found her corpse a few weeks ago," Jason's voice is hoarse as he answers, and Dick can see his hot glare through the white lenses of the helmet as his brother deturns his head from the road to look at him. He's still mad at him for bringing Damian and for forcing him to answer that question. "But she lacked several organs. Thomas Hamilton is a fucking organ trafficker."

It's like Dick's heart just stopped. Jason's words make it so _real_. It seems so much more horrible to know precisely what will happen to his little brother if they fail to save him.

"I don't see how all of this is helpful," Damian immediatly snaps, frustration heavy in his voice.

"I got something else," Oracle goes on, ignoring him. "I hacked into Hamilton's bank account too. He transfered high sums of money to nine different men since the last six months. The dates, once again, coincid with the abductions and Hamilton's visits in Gotham. More precisely, he hires three men for every exchange."

"So Hamilton's careless enough not to pay his goons by cash?" Jason says, bewildered. "And among those nine shitbags, three of them are hired to secure tonight's exchange?"

"Indeed. And one of those three lives in Gotham. Meaning," she adds, and is it a smile that Dick hears in her voice? "That I was able to find out his address."

"So the address that you sent us is his?" Dick's brows furrow. "But how is it going to hel-"

"He hasn't gone out yet! I intercepted a phone conversation. The guy said he wouldn't be out in another ten minutes, and that's more that enough for you to get to his place. So you'll just have to follow him to know where the exchange will take place and rescue Tim."

Nightwing feels his heart pounding hard and his hopes rise up because _what would we do without you, Babs?_ He has to concentrate not to yell her name in the middle of the town. "I love you so much right now."

He can even hear Damian mumble something along the lines of "That was a... satisfactory prestation indeed."

Jason just snorts. And speeds up a little, quickly imitated by Nightwing and Robin.

* * *

They've reached their destination and are now waiting at the corner of the street for Hamilton's goon to leave his apartement. They're just far enough that they won't be seen when the guy enters his car.

Suddenly Jason feels Holm's phone vibrate in his pocket. He curses, but when he sees an unidentified number on the screen, he removes his helmet to speak before hitting the louspeaker button as his brothers observe him, confused. They will understand soon anyway.

"Yeah?"

"_._.. Holm?" Shit, of course Sadler was waiting for a female voice.

"Yes. Samuel Holm. Is it you, boss?" He can practically hear his brothers' eyes widen.

"Where's your sister?" Sadler's tone is gruffy and harsh. But Jason is glad that his lack of contact with his men doesn't allow him to recognize their voice.

"Under the shower." _Smooth, Todd_. Did Damian just huff? "She, uh, said we shouldn't keep the boss waiting in case you'd call."

Sadler probably won't tell any sensible information to a low hierarchy member like Samuel Holm, brother of Jessica or not. But Jason is one hundred percent sure that Oracle is listening and looking for a way to trace the call right now. He just has to buy her enough time.

"Can I do something for you, boss?"

"Tell her to meet me at in 76 Gangley Street.I have orders for her." Or maybe Sadler isn't that careful, after all. "And tell her she can already look for another have two kids that are still waiting."

"I... I'll tell her." Sadler hungs up.

Sadler must be thinking of promoting Samuel Holm. There's no other way he would have said _that_ to him.

"You heard that, Oracle?" Nightwing asks.

Their eyes have stayed glued on the building the whole time. The man still hasn't left.

"Of yourse I did. Guys, you should separate." It's an evidence that she doesn't like what she's saying. "We won't have any other opportunity to corner their boss. Plus, there are two more children that still can be saved."

Jason can see that doesn't please any of them, but she's right. Still...

"But an exchange like that can be dangerous to go too outnumbered," Nightwing points out. His fists clench. "And we can't take the risk to fail Tim."

"We would take a less signifiant risk if we manage to trap them somehow," Robin suddenly speaks up.

That seems to ring a bell for Dick, because the white lense widen in realization. "Oracle, you said Hamilton hires new goons for each exchange?"

"Yes, but what are you thinking about?"

"That's our chance," Nightwing says. "He doesn't _know_ the guys he's hiring."

And Jason gets his point. He can feel his frown dissipate and his lips stretch into a small smile, the first in what seems like days. "I think we've got our plan."

* * *

Tim doesnt register the van stopping again. Instead, he's woken up at the sound of the doors opening. He's groggy, his mind and body still clouded by the sedatif. He hears steps before being grabbed again, dragged out of the van and thrown on his knees.

He can't see anything due to the blindfold, and that's somewhat terrifying. His heart adopts a quick pace again as he relies on his hearing. He can perceive enough different breathings around him to understand he's completely outnumbered. Tim is on the place of the exchange and there's not a single thing he can do.

"Had to rough him up a little," one of the Skulled says. "The fucker's stubborn."

"That is not a problem," another voice he never heard before replies calmly, "as long as you haven't caused any internal dammage." Tim shivers harder, and for once, that has nothing to do with the cold. He knows what the guy plans to do to him now.

He can hear a briefcase open. "It seems like we have the count." The Skulled's voice is pleased. "See ya' next time, maybe?"

The briefcase closes. And then there are two footsteps moving away. The sound of the van's doors slamming shut. The motor growls and the engine starts up.

Tim is grabbed again as he hears the van fading away. He wants to cry and to scream and to throw up.

He hears the doors of a car open. The guy holding him lets go of one of his arms.

And then there's three gunshots, three bodies hitting the ground, and a cry, soon silenced by the sound of a head being hit hard.

His eyes are wide open under the blindfold. He doesn't understand anything, turning his head from side to side and struggling in the man's hold. What the _hell_ is happening?

"_Shit_, Baby-B, that's how you welcome your savor?"

Tim freezes. Then asks, his voice hoarse and strained and hopeful, "_Jason?_"

Strong but gentle arms lower him to the ground. Gloved hands remove the blindfold. And he's faced with Jay's maskless face as he deadpans, "Well, yeah. Duh." But his eyes only show relief and concern.

Tim lets out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. And lets his head fall into the crook of Jason's neck.

Jason stiffens for a second, but then grabs his knife and reach behind him to cut the ropes on his wrists. As soon as they can, Tim's hands grips his brothers' jacket and hold onto it as hard as his numb fingers allow them to.

Jason cuts the bounds on his ankles too, then gently pry Tim's hand off his jacket, pushing back just enough to put it off and give it to Tim. "Shit, kid, you're freezing."

"I can do it myself," Tim weakly protests when the older man zips the way too big jacket up to his nose.

"Shut up." Jason pushes Tim into a bear hug. "Fuck, Baby-bird. Don't you ever do that again."

Tim is tense at first, startled, but then leans into the embrace, slowly bringing his arms around his brother. Letting Jason's warmth wrapping him whole, his heart and breathing finally adopting an agreably slow pace.

* * *

Jason insisted to bring Tim to his apartement – or, more precisely, to the apartement he sleeps in when he stays at Gotham between two periods of Red Hooding around the world.

He's leaned on the wall next to the open window of his living-room-kitchen-dining-room, a cigarette well-damned earned in his hand, as he watches Baby-bird eating a just as well-damned earned double cheeseburger. From the fast-food were they were supposed to meet, of course.

The kid is leaning on the wretched table. Jason lent him a hoodie and some sweatpants after he took a shower, and it makes him snorts how he could put three Tims in here.

"What?" Tim raises an eyebrow. And sneezes.

"Nothing. Finish your last burger before Dickhead shows up and cuddles you to death." It's Tim's turn to snort.

Jason told him how Barbara saved him practically by herself. He explained how she found out that Hamilton, for some reason, always hired different goons for his exchanges. Meaning that the thugs didn't know each other, and Hamilton wouldn't notice if one of them pretended to be one of his men. So instead of all following the guy like originally planned, they interrogated him to learn the place of the exchange and Jason went in his place.

"And you were designated because you're the most credible as a brainless thug?" Tim had asked. Jason had slapped him in the back of the head lightly, but then they laughed imagining Dick in a rough, heartless thug disguise.

Jason went on. As they learned where to find that Blake Sadler due to the stolen phone of Jessica Holm and to Jason oh-so-convicting actor performance – "I would never have expected you of _such_ a high-minded stratagem." "Stop interrupting, you shitty brat!" –, and as there were sure that Jason would be able to handle a pycho surgeron and his two thugs, they decided to send Dick and Damian on Sadler's trail, jumping on their only occasion to corner the Skulled's boss and to save the two kids he had mentioned.

"I tell ya, kid. Dickie-bird wasn't happy at all not being able to see you at once. His cuddles will be twice as murderous."

They didn't want to take any risk, so it was agreed that Jason would have to wait for the Skulled to leave before acting. Then he shot the two thugs in the back of their heads and knocked Hamilton out, to question him later on the localisation of his potential other victims that could still be alive.

They just got news from Oracle. Nightwing and Robin, after having interrogated Sadler, were able to identify others buyers and to rescue more kids, more or less hurt and traumatised, and to return them to their families. Bruce just made it back to Gotham and is currently giving them a hand finding the last victims and handing the responsibles to the police. Jason decides to ignore how surprised Tim was to learn that Bruce left Japan as soon as he knew for his abduction.

They were also able to get Sadler to tell them the names of all the members of the Skulled. The gang is officially dismantled.

"If I had known," Tim says when swallowing the last bite of his burger, "I would have get kidnapped sooner."

"Do you want my fist in your fucking face?"

"I was _joking_, Jason."

"And you're about as funny as the plague."

Tim is about to retort when he coughs again, and gives Jason a glare when he leaves the wall and lifts his hand towards his forehead for the umpteenth time that night. So Jason, being the mature adult he is, gives him a flick between the eyes instead.

"So maybe I didn't heard right, but Damian insisted on helping you save me?" Tim asks smugly as Jason takes a sit at the table next to him.

"You kidding? He was all dark and broody and he scowled even more than usual. I didn't even know that was physically possible. Sure the muscles of his face are sore right now."

The kid chuckles, trying to pretend his ears aren't getting red at the tips. "I guess that's good blackmail material."

And Jason snorts, because he has things to teach on the subject, and would gladly share his knowledge with the Baby-bird if that means bothering the Demon brat.

The doors slams open suddenly – Jason knew it would be pointless to lock it, so he didn't –, and a giant tentacle monster speaking as fast as a speedster jumps on Tim. Jason just sighs, unimpressed, and gets up to close the door.

"Oh my God, Timmy, I was so worried! Are you okay? Jay told me you sprained your ankle. And you're covered in bruises," Golden child frowns, taking a look at Tim's face. "And I think you're running a fever. Did you give him antibiotics, Jay ?" He turns towards him, his arms still around Tim's neck. "_Jay?_ Are you _smoking_ again?"

"Yeah, I gave him antibiotics. And fuck you," he adds while dragging on his cigarette again.

"Dick," Tim says when his big brother's arms allow him to put enough breath in his lungs, "I'm _fine._"

Jason snorts. "I get that Damian is Damian, and I wasn't expecting more show of humanity for the night," he says, "but Bruce went straight to the Manor?" He didn't really expect him to pass by, but still.

"You two didn't saw him," Dick points out. "He was enraged. I thought he was going to kill every member of the Skulled." Speaking of murder, Jason is surprised he still didn't have his knuckles rapped. Maybe Dick didn't told Bruce, or maybe no one believed they would be credible when giving him the 'killing fuckers selling kids to other fuckers is baaaad' speech. "You know him, he's emotionnaly constiped." It's nothing to say it.

Dick hugs Tim tighter. "But Tim will come to the Manor tomorrow morning, and stay there for at least a week. Batman's orders." Jason doesn't doubt that it's Bruce's proposition, but he's fairly certain that the 'at least a week' part is a personal addition from Dick, who doesn't leave that much of a choice to the kid by the way. "Alfred will make your favourite meal. You're welcome too, Jay," he says, vibrant blue eyes diving into his. "B. won't say it, but he's missed you."

Jason sighs. He swears, that guy's got some coin in the ass that he doesn't want to drop.

"Yeah, okay. I'll come." The Manor has not been his favourite destination in a long time, but he can make some effort every now and then. Especially if that means Alfred's food.

He can see the Baby-bird give him a small smile. And yeah, he can definitely make an effort.

"Perfect," Dick is beaming. "We'll go tomorrow morning. Err, we'll go in a few hours."

Tim raises an eyebrow. "We?"

"Of course," Dick says, voice indulgent. "We're all staying here tonight. I hope you have enough spare blankets, Jay?"

* * *

_The End!_

_I hope I was able to keep everyone in character and that the whole story was credible enough. Don't hesitate to tell if it's not the case though, I am open to any constructive criticism :)_

_Thank you very much (again) at everyone that took the time to read!_


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